“If the total scheme of nature required man to be a specialist she would have made him so by having him born with one eye and a microscope attached to it.”
— Buckminster Fuller

I have been reading a lot of Bucky’s work lately and take particular pause whenever he celebrates the art of the generalist. I have also been excited by Brian Eno’s theories on the art of the curator. So, here is a generalists curation of some shizzy that’s been floating around my desk and breathing in my fingertips:

I went for a stroll around my neighborhood and marveled at the homes of other people.


Two new hip hop photo books will have to be purchased immediately:
Pass the Mic an early 90’s perspective on the Beasties and Back in the Days, which covers the streets where it all began. When it rains it pours!

In an attempt to brush up on my Pidgin English, so I can one day crack the code on Fela Kuti’s Africa 70 “Expensive Shit”, I have consulted the
Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which is used by the Nigerian Government to bridge their linguistics gap.
An excerpt:
“Everi human being, naim dem born free and dem de equal for dignity and di rights wey we get, as human beings, God come give us beta sense wey we de take tink well, well and beta mind, sake for dis, we must to treat each other like broda and sister.”

Zoo York gives a sneak preview of their new Skatevideo/Mixtape. If your blessed with some serious bandwidth, download the mix tape trailer (19M). If you got slighted, check the smaller commercial (2M).

Butter makes Charles and Ray Eames Heads for those of us who can’t afford the chairs.

I want to go to NY to check out Pedestrian.

I want to go to LA to check out All Tomorrow’s Parties.

My new favorite word is Jounce. My favorite use of that word is in an article about another devoted Generalist –
Edward James. The Minneapolis/St Paul public library has very little on my man James. I am determined to learn more about his passion for Surrealist Generalization.

I’m very happy that the mean month of February is coming to close. Couldn’t happen sooner. It’s really the most intolerable of all the months. It’s no wonder that February got snubbed and only got 28 days. For me the awful by-products of February are, my continual runny nose, my car that looks more like a salt lick than a fine American Land Boat, the constant bickering of politicians (why even try to make policy in February) and the numerous “Ohh pleases” that get thrown at the T.V. while watching the Grammy Awards.

Today I find joy in learning that if I play King Tubby Records on my Hi-Fi system and turn the bass up past 7 that I can generate enough low-end to gently shake the wood floors of my apartment, which causes enough vibration in the end table where my Zen Garden resides to erase whatever patterns were created previous. The effect is much like an etch-a-scketch, only more gradual.

Some music related awards I’d like to give:

Best performance by a duo or group to listen to while waiting for your 85 Oldsmobile to warm up because it’s 4 degrees outside: Tenacious D.

Best song to play while stuck in evening traffic waiting on the ramp for 94 West to decongest: Shirley Bassey – “Goldfinger” (Propellerheads remix)

Best duo or group that comes over classic radio that immediately gets turned up: Boston. Man, Boston rock!! Isn’t Boston just one guy?

Best Song to play while driving around Duluth at 3AM: The Angel – “Selector (on the otha side of midnight)”. Future Music.

Best Song Title: Tosca – “Chocolate Elvis”

Best CD Packaging: Jazzanova – “Remixes”

Best Funk 45 discovery of 2001: Over Night Low – “The Witch Doctor”

Best Song that proves nobody beats the Biz in 2002: Biz Markie – “Turn the Party Out”

Best song to have on the Hi-Fi while cooking in the kitchen, pretending your shooting a show for the food network called “The Dancing Chef”: Fauna Flash – “Ten” (Pole Remix)

Oh my. Just when I was on the cusp of warming up to the fact that my favorite food — Heinz Ketchup — was available in green, the quick draw marketing maniacs at Heinz Corp. have unleashed three new colors of Ketchup. This is a mystery to me. Are sales of Heinz Ketchup down? Why do they feel compelled to mess with such a solid tasty consumeralbe. Does this kind of marketing historically work (e.g. New Coke, Double Stuff Oreos). I didn’t think so. It seems like fad marketing to me. But, I’m not in marketing, maybe it’s all the rage. The Heinz Corp. say they will be making these colors available in limited quantities. I wonder what the profile is for this kind of gimmick marketing? My guess is, the profile is some 20 years younger than me and has a demographic mantra of “oooh cool — mommy buy me this!”. I’m off to the supermarket…bye.

“Are you custom-made, custom-paid or just custom-fitted?”

–ludacris

I think the software industry is in need of a new anthem right now. A shut up — get to work — handle your business kinda anthem. An anthem steeped in the tradition of the classic turn of the century work song. An anthem that will have managers rhythmically engaged in stoic call and response with their production teams. An anthem that will transcend the gray boundaries of cube life by rallying the masses with a singularly focused message. I suggest that anthem be “Roll Out (My Business)”, by the southern gentlemen ludacris.

After a quick read of ludacris’ prose I can’t help but wonder if Lud’ was employed by some giant dot com before they went bottoms up and left ‘cris to his own devices. I contest that “Roll Out (my business) is actually a rap-a-log about the software biz, cleverly hidden like the subplots of CB4. There are so many references to industry secrets in this anthem that I wonder if ‘Cris wasn’t working on IBM’s new chip before he was canned for shredding documents. Hey, it’s his business. I don’t know — you decide.

I’m also a big fan of his guest rap on Missy Misdemeanor Elliots “one minute man”. “ludacris balance and rotate all tires”, yet another skillfully drawn metaphor from a queue that seems bottomless. You’d need one of those Google Appliances just to search his database of knowledge bombs. I’m a bit scared though that the automotive metaphor for sex will continue to a trend where the girls on Sex in the City will be talking about, “getting their fluids checked”, and “can you recommend a good mechanic? . Urgg.

And what’s the deal with the radio version of ludacris’ “Area Codes”? Like changing the word “Hoes” to “Pros” somehow makes the occupation more acceptable for radio consumption. I wish I could sit in on some of those FCC meetings.

I would like this book for my birthday. Any takers?

Sometimes you have to just unplug all the machines, put on your warmest flannel, run to your local grocer, stock pile canned goods and make a hasty retreat to the best log cabin at your disposal. You really can’t pick a better weekend to go than Valentines weekend. Especially if your Valentine is cute, has given you Deluxe Scrabble as a Valentine Gift and is fun on road trips.

The lo-fi woodsy retreat was just what the doctor ordered. The weather was a bit odd though. It’s as if we here in the Great White North are experiencing a non-season. Its the middle of February, there’s no snow on the ground and everything is filthy dirty brown — dead or hibernating. There were no critters strolling about for national geographic moments. I mean nothing. We even left syrup covered waffles out on the deck in an attempt to lure any warm blooded creatures out from their winter nook but for two days we had no takers. Saddly, maybe that says more about my waffles then it does the animal life around Lake Pepin.

The whole vibe got even creepier when outside nature walk excursions were attempted from the cabin. The lack of snow, greenery, people, critters, and… well…any form of life whatsoever, left imaginations to run amok fueled by way too many bad horror movies as a child. Damn Steven King for writing, Children of the Corn. Best to stay in the cabin. Never Get Out of the Boat.

It gives one pause to reflect. And here’s what I learned and or discovered:

<br

  1. I absolutely suck at Trivial Pursuit.
  2. Lego’s needs to make “Lego Brand” Stereo components that you can stack in personalized configurations.
  3. Split Pea Soup gets thicker and thicker the more you let it sit around.
  4. I want to own a log cabin in the near future.
  5. A good kitchen DOES make you a better cook.
  6. I need to sell Chronicle Books on a coffee table book entitled “Left Out to Pasture: American’s love of leaving things in their yard”
  7. Not all my ideas are very “good”.
  8. Listening to Frank Sinatra never gets old.
  9. The movie Ghost World is not as good as the book.
  10. I need to take more vacations.

If your interested, the Cabin is for sale if you have the money.

The House Project saga continues. As recounted by the Good Doctor F.

This episode is being brought to you by dancehall guru Tiger Ranks.

So.
After we drop $2500 at Standard TV and Appliance last weekend, they deliver
the wrong steel fridge and then just try to get me to just accept it
instead. I track down the shitheel who sold it to us (after the receptionist
tries to put me off several times by explaining that “he is with a customer”
like that is some delicate surgery or medatiative type endeavor that cannot
be disturbed when in reality he is trying to talk up the features on a
shitty white $119 microwave to some slack-jawed dullards) and according to
him the fridge we wanted and had discussed for thirty minutes with him is
apparently unavailable. He had a week to call and tell us this but insted
tried to pull the old bait and switch.

This after yours truly had taken the
doors off the smoke stained old lady fridge that came with our house and
packed the food in coolers in the yard, waiting all morning for the delivery
people to rub their two remaining brain cells together in a feeble attempt
to spark an impluse that will shift their attention from the McDonald’s
feedbag and find our house on a M-A-P. As the delivery guy is proudly
unveiling the wrong appliance on the taligate of the truck, my dog is busily
shredding a cookie bag and I am shivering on the neighbors porch in my
pajamas, learning from my Eugene Levy look-alike neighbor that he can park
in front of our house and the pavement in front is not in fact “your yard.”

I refuse to accept the fridge and then later return the other shit (a
dishwasher and garbage disposal) in my own truck right through the front
door, loudly proclaiming that they are “either shady or uninformed or some
combination of the two.” They try to keep me away from the other customers
as I increase in volume and wave receipts and the store manager has to be
summoned to expedite the refund transaction. His tan turns from golden
brown to white as he sees my unshowered, dirty pants and dirty boots giant
bearded yelling self right in the front and center of the store where they
take their first bite out of you as you some in the door. He straightens
his shitty tie on his pink (!) dress shirt and hems and haws that my girlfriend
said on the phone he had until Monday to make it right. I tell him
“bullshit on that.” These are our last words to each other. Bastards.
Never go for the bait and switch and never get out of the fucking boat.

I went to my old friend Tomo’s wedding this weekend and struggled voraciously with my low-impact digital camera to take some pictures. The Kodak DC280 Zoom was operating on it’s own digi-rhythms, belching and merciless, succumbing to the thumbs of a hand that knows no other digits. It’s favorite thing to do was to wait about 1.7 seconds after I framed what was no doubt a perfect glimps into the heart of ceremony — the birth of new hope and unwavering vows, and to take that image and pause…pause until the flower of love moved out of frame, which, when you have participants promenading, gathering, posing and disbanding, becomes quite tedious and hurtful.

But it wasn’t a complete bust. Far from it. On solid ground we drank wine and learned that Jesus was down with that funky shit from the get go. If you thought J.C. was some kinda party pooper you guessed wrong. Special thanks to Grandma Ruthie for all the gambling tips, Las Vegas lessons and for reminding me of the secret to writing a successful saga. May you continue to rob that town of all it’s riches. Next time I hit the tables at the Golden Nugget, I’ll raise my glass to you and follow your Blackjack instructions to the letter. Your strength has taught us well!

And so forth…am I the only one that thinks the Snow boarding half pipe event just makes for bad Olympic Television? It must be a blast to experience “the pipe” from the ground level of Salt Lake City, but all the fancy camera angles in the Olympic World can not bring a modicum of suspense to this sport. The life and death action of the luge and the ski jump are missing, the suspense of any sort of racing against another person or a clock is painfully absent and the Sum 41 soundtrack just isn’t doing it for me. Who bribed the Olympic Committee into allowing this sport to cross over? And please, when are the curling finals on T.V.?

While trying to improve my own Olympic experience at home, I’ve come up with my Top Ten records to play while watching the Olympics with the sound off:

1. Tony Bennett “Love Story”
2. Nigeria 70 The Definitiive Story of 1970’s Funky Lagos
3. Gary Bartz “Singerella: A Ghetto Fairy Tale”
4. Herbie Hancock “Rockit”
5. Paul Jackson “Black Octopus”
6. Quincy Jones and His Band “Big Band Bossa Nova”
7. Lee “Scratch” Perry “Blackboard Jungle”
8. Tone-Loc “Loc-ed After Dark”
9. Peace Orchestra “s/t”
10. Henry Mancini “Touch of Evil Soundtrack”

This record has helped me to stop smoking. If your trying to quit and would like a copy of it, please get in touch…